The cupboard door opened with a jolt that morning, the sound of the lock snapping back sharper than usual. Petunia's face appeared, pinched and pale. "Up. Breakfast."
Harry crawled out, rubbing his eyes. The air in the kitchen was thick with the smell of frying bacon. Dudley was already at the table, shovelling food into his mouth, Vernon hidden behind his newspaper.
He's in a mood, Nyx murmured in his head. Bet you a cushion he's about to take it out on you.
Stay alert, Hedwig advised.
Harry slid into his seat, keeping his head down. The scrape of a plate being shoved toward him was followed by Vernon's grunt. "Post's on the mat. Get it."
Harry stood, crossing the hall. Three envelopes lay on the doormat. Two were bills. The third was thick, heavy, and addressed in emerald‑green ink:
Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey
His fingers tightened around it.
That's new, Nyx said. And it's got your name on it.
Open it, Hedwig urged.
Harry turned it over, heart thudding. The wax seal was deep red, stamped with a crest — a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle circling a large letter H.
"What's that?" Vernon's voice snapped from the kitchen.
Harry froze. "It's mine."
Vernon was already on his feet, crossing the hall in three heavy steps. He snatched the envelope from Harry's hand, his eyes narrowing as he read the address.
"Who'd be writing to you?" he growled.
"I don't know," Harry said.
Vernon's face darkened. "You're not reading it." He stuffed the letter into his jacket pocket and marched back into the kitchen.
That's not going to stop us, Nyx said.
We'll find a way, Hedwig agreed.
Harry sat back down. Dudley smirked at him over a mouthful of bacon. "What'd you do? Get in trouble with the police?"
"No," Harry said flatly.
"Bet it's from a freak club," Dudley said.
He's not wrong about the freak part, Nyx said.
Ignore him, Hedwig murmured.
The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Vernon kept the letter close, his hand brushing the pocket every few minutes. Petunia kept glancing at him, as though the envelope might explode.
That night, Harry lay in the cupboard, staring at the ceiling.
They know where you are, Nyx said. They know exactly where you sleep.
And they want to tell you something, Hedwig added. Something important.
The next morning, Harry was ready when Vernon barked for the post. He hurried to the door, but Vernon was faster, snatching the bundle from his hands. Another letter. Same handwriting. Same green ink.
By the day after that, there were three. Then five. Each one was intercepted.
By the end of the week, the letters were arriving in bundles. Through the letterbox. Under the door. Even slipped through the small window in the downstairs loo.
Vernon nailed the letterbox shut. He boarded up the windows. He stationed himself by the front door at post time, sweating and muttering.
This is getting ridiculous, Nyx said. They're going to start dropping them down the chimney next.
She wasn't wrong. The next morning, letters rained into the fireplace, spilling across the rug. Harry lunged for one, but Vernon tackled him, shoving him back toward the hall.
"Pack your things!" Vernon bellowed. "We're leaving!"
"Where are we going?" Dudley asked, his voice high with panic.
"Somewhere they can't find us," Vernon said.
"They?" Harry asked.
"Shut it!" Vernon snapped.
He's losing it, Nyx said. This is fun.
It's dangerous, Hedwig countered.
The Dursleys bundled Dudley into the car, dragging Harry along. They drove for hours, stopping at a dingy hotel on the edge of a grey, windswept town.
That night, Harry lay on the lumpy bed, staring at the ceiling.
They'll find you, Hedwig said.
And when they do, Nyx added, I want a front‑row seat.
The next morning, the hotel manager knocked on the door, holding a bundle of letters. "These came for you."
Vernon's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. "We're leaving," he said again.
"Again?" Dudley whined. "I'm hungry!"
"You'll eat later," Vernon snapped.
They drove deeper into the countryside, the roads narrowing, the hedges closing in. By nightfall, they reached a shack perched on a rocky outcrop above the sea. The wind howled through the cracks in the walls.
Harry curled up on the thin mattress in the corner, pulling the blanket tight.
Tomorrow's your birthday, Nyx said. I think you're going to get a present.
Be ready, Hedwig told him.
Harry closed his eyes, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below mixing with the steady beat of his heart. Somewhere out there, someone was trying to reach him. And no matter how far the Dursleys ran, he knew they wouldn't be able to hide forever.